All this was very alarming talk for the timorous small boy to overhear, and he longed, a hundred times, to be safe back in Devonshire.
“I’m afraid,” he faltered. “I know—I shall be a coward.”
“Don’t be a young ass,” said Dick. “Heathcote and I will back you up all we can, won’t we, Georgie?”
“Rather,” said Heathcote.
“If you do, it won’t be half so bad,” said the boy, brightening up a bit; “it’s dreadful to be a coward.”
“Well, why are you one?” said Dick. “No one’s obliged to be one.”
“I suppose I can’t help it. I try hard.”
“There goes the bell. I suppose that’s for us to go in,” said Dick, as the summons once more sounded.
They found the matron with a list in her hand, which she proceeded to call over, bidding each boy answer to his name. The first twelve were the new boys of Westover’s house, and they included our two heroes and Aspinall, who were forthwith marched, together with their night apparel, across the court to their new quarters.
Here they were received by another matron, who presided over the wardrobes of the youth of Westover’s, and by her they were escorted to one of the dormitories, where, for that night at any rate, they were to be permitted to sleep in the comfort of one another’s society.